next time you go to the store, bring me back a flamethrower. I could use a little excitement.

storytelling

An Essay?
Carefully filed under "Et Cetera."

Droplets
A cautionary tale, with Stewart and the Gnome

Ominous Sunshine
The story of the day that I died.

T.M.L.V.
The first and last story of the armadillo.

When We Come Home
Not long from now, an Orwellian government maintains control of what we say, see, and do, but at some point it will break.



An Essay?

05/04/2005

Biscuits, marshmallows, mooses and meeces. These all have exactly five things in common, none of which have any relevance to the following. The most interesting fact to note here may be, unfortunately, that the letter 'Q' is noticeably absent, though remedies for this situation have been acquired. Precisely.

Now that the foreward has been tackled, we should proceed to the talking points of the day. Mind you, if these points were to speak up for a change, I'd be out of a job and you'd be deaf. This is factually predicted in at least a dozen or so handbooks on the subject of talking points, and any reasonable cadet of science or dialogue should be fully aware of this. As a matter of half-fact, one of the talking points will eventually be entirely semi-related to this matter, and so we commence with the question and answer of "whether science is objective."

The objectivity of science, of course, is limited by those who practice such occult fantasies. As we all know, science is the art of knowing what is and isn't, and as the word "is" has hardly any value in actually defining things, serving instead to lead people down narrow, religiously-bound paths, science instantly becomes subjective. For example, ask a local farmer what the chemical composition of plastic "is," and he'll likely tell you that corn has something to do with it. He may be on to something here, as, technically and morally, knowing what plastic "is" made of will ultimately be subjective, subject to proof, and subject to complaint.

This would certainly be grounds for a congressional inquiry and some capitol punishment. I do not make spelling errors.

Errors are, to be imprecise, yet another tricky devil in the realm of subjectivity. To determine who "is" right and who "is" wrong would seem to be the only way to truly define an error, and in doing so, one would establish and nourish the fallacy of that two-letter whore from the Arctic, "is." Thus, I would hardly be "wrong" if I claimed to be the son of the king of Mars, heir to the most abundant stockpile of red west of east. Finding what "is" wrong in this statement would only serve to subject you to the devil, a fact that is most certainly true.

Truth, however, will not be discussed here today. Being such a complicated lack of a subject, it seems to be an entire waste of time unless one were to get a few answers from God. I hear he's not taking calls.

That seems to be all for today. Be sure to take your pens, pencils, and charred-chip cookies with you, and don't forget to write!
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